Sound of Madness
by LoveThatFandom
Summary: His entire life, Vincent Lehnsherr never knew of his father. He didn't know what he had done or what kind of person he was. He went on with his life normally. Until he happened to run into another of his kind. He was told of who his father was and he tried to be better - to be someone opposite of what his father was. But sometimes, you can't ignore what runs in your blood...
1. Goodbye to the Past

**Chapter 1: Goodbye to the Past**

**\- 2016 -**

Erik Lehnsherr ducked his head down, feeling the eyes on the side of his head. Adjusting his hat, he focused his gaze down on his shoes, mentally cursing at himself for staring. He was supposed to be focusing on finding Jakobus Schmidt in the crowd, not women. One year after Apocalypse rose from his slumber and was defeated, Charles had come to him for help. Their relationship was still rocky at times and they didn't communicate much, but when Charles needed help, it meant something big.

One of the students, Benjamin, recruited had prophetic visions. They ranged anywhere from small life goals, to earth-shattering visions. After an intense prophetic vision, Charles had immersed himself in Ben's mind to find the horrible visions to be true, most of them revolving around two young men, though their identities were unclear. Slowly, in days to come, Ben pieced together more and more parts to the prophecy and it was deduced that a man named Jakobus Schmidt to be directly involved with the capturing and militarization of numerous mutants. Problem being, Jakobus lived in the year of 2016, whereas they lived in 1984. If it wasn't for cerebro, they wouldn't have been able to find a mutant capable of bringing them to the future. Her name was Leslie and she was only thirteen years old.

It took Erik a while to adjust to her presence. She reminded him much of Nina and that was a place he never wanted to go back to. Part of him felt protective over her as Charles pushed her to practice so she'd be able to bring them to the proper century, but it needed to be done. A total of six months passed before she was ready. Leslie transported a large group of them to the year of 2016 and here they were.

_"Erik?" _

He swung around, ramming into someone just as he raised his hand to press against his temples as Charles spoke into his mind.

"I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going!"

"It's quite alright, I just..." He looked up, trailing off when he realized it was the woman he had been sending not-so-subtle glances at for the past ten minutes.

"Oh! Are you visiting?" she asked, tucking a strand of chocolate hair behind her ear.

Visiting? How did this woman know?

_"Erik! Did you find-"_

He shut out Charles's voice, looking at the woman. "What?"

"Visiting? Your accent. Are you from England?"

Relaxing slightly, he leaned against the building next to them and folded his arms over his chest. "Ah..I was born in Germany. Grew up in various places. Just here for a visit."

He could feel Charles prying at his mind, but he forced his old friend back, something he had learned to do over the years.

"Really? My father was from Germany. He met my mother here in America when he came over for business. Small world." She smiled brightly.

_ Damn..._

_"ERIK!"_

Erik cleared his throat, straightening up a bit. "Well it was nice to meet you miss...?"

"Evanna. Evanna Westbrooke."

"Erik," he said, shaking her hand.

Before he could pull away, she pulled out a pen from her pocket and opened up his palm, quickly scribbling something down.

"See you around," she chirped, smiling at him and then disappearing in the crowd.

Looking down at his hand, he realized that she had scribbled a phone number across his palm.

Jean and Charles suddenly appeared in the crowd, heading right toward him.

"Why weren't you answering?" his friend asked, stopping his wheelchair right in front of him.

Jean must've caught sight of the digits on his hand because she gave him a knowing smirk. He clenched his fist, hiding the numbers and looking down at Charles. "I bumped into someone, lost sight of Jakobus."

"It's fine. We can find him again. Won't be hard for Charles and I," Jean said, winking at him and brushing past. "Stay focused, loverboy."

Charles gave them each a weird look before motioning for him to follow. Looking down at his palm once more, he played her voice over in his head. _Evanna..._

* * *

Erik stared at the modern-day phone in front of him. After meeting Evanna, he wrote down the number that she'd written on his hand and kept it for safe keeping. But he hadn't actually called her. Why would he? He was here for one thing only and that was to help save the world from destruction.

Three weeks had passed since they'd traveled here to the future and they'd lost track of Jakobus. Most of their time seemed to be idle sitting around, trying to use the new technology to track down Jakobus. Without cerebro, Charles could only look for people in the nearest vicinity, so they were out of luck unless he decided to stick nearby. All they needed to do was get hold of him so they could get information out of him as to where the facility he was holding mutants at was.

Looking over to Charles sitting on the other couch, he pressed his lips together and got to a stand. "I'm going for a walk."

His friend looked up from his book, looking at him with curious eyes. "Alright. Don't go far."

Erik gave a slight nod before heading for the door. He started down the hallway of the hotel, stepping outside and taking in a breath of fresh air. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he strolled down the sidewalk, occasionally taking a peek at everyone as they passed. It was nice to be able to walk in public without people knowing who he was. He wasn't sure of what his future counterpart had done or was like, but in any case, he was glad for a bit of the freedom.

As he walked, he noticed a little food shop just up ahead and he thought maybe getting something to eat would be good. It was around lunch time, so he might as well.

When he entered, he realized that it seemed to be a little pastry shop. The line wasn't long, but he didn't quite know what he wanted so he stepped toward the window separating him from the pastries and took a sweeping glance of everything in front of him. He was so concentrated on looking deciding what he felt like having that he didn't even notice the figure behind the counter watching him with a small smile.

"Erik?"

He looked up, blinking. His blue eyes landed on the woman watching him and for a second he blanched. Evanna? Caught off guard, he stumbled for words.

"You okay there?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Yes, just...wasn't expecting to see you here," he answered, completely unprepared for this conversation.

"Yeah, I work here. Have been for years now. You must be wanting something to eat. Pick something, it's on me."

"What? No it's quite alright. I don't want to make you pay for me," he answered, looking down at the array of sweetened breads once more.

"No really, it's okay. Why don't you...pick something and I'll join you for lunch? My break is in five minutes."

He brought his attention back up to her, hesitating for a minute. "Alright."

* * *

Two more weeks had passed since Erik had reconnected with Evanna at the pastry shop she worked at and since then, he'd been going down every day for lunch. He never told the others, only telling them that he needed some air to go for a walk. If they found out, he knew what they would say and he didn't want to hear it. Part of him knew he shouldn't be dancing on the line of more than friendly. He couldn't do anything here that would mess up the timeline. But there was a deep burning desire in him to just be normal and happy, and being here in this year and having someone like Evanna to talk to made him feel that way. It had been over a year since he had last been happy and he never wanted the feeling to go away.

They'd been able to find Jakobus, but he put up a pretty nasty fight and got away before they could get the information they needed, so that left them back to square one. Charles decided that it might be easier to start questioning the workers at the facility, so finding them was the next step. But for now, he was content to go down to the pastry shop for lunch like usual.

As he rounded the corner, he noticed the familiar brunette hanging out in front of the shop, switching the sign on the front to closed. Curious, he picked up his pace, greeting her with a small smile.

"Hey Erik. Sorry I didn't get to bring you lunch. We had to close early for inspection," she explained, turning to face him. "But if you still want lunch, maybe we can try and get somewhere before it starts downpouring?"

He took a brief glance up to the sky to see that threatening dark clouds hovered above. "That sounds lovely. Where would you like to go?"

Evanna brightened up and looped her arm with his, causing his chest to tighten. "There's a really nice diner a few blocks down. If we hurry, we should miss the rain."

"Let's go, then," he agreed, looking down at her and holding his breath as he took in her features.

Before his feet could even function, she was dragging him off and he let out a chuckle just as an ominous ripple of thunder broke through the sky. The two of them picked up their pace, but the rain had other ideas. Within seconds, the droplets started to pelt down. Evanna let out a small squeal and broke from his side, darting for the nearest overhang that was safe and dry. He laughed, following suit and bumping into her lightly. The both of them looked at each other, soaked to the core, laughing so hard their insides hurt. She started to talk rapidly, but the only thing he could focus on was her lips.

His face softened and her voice slowed when she realized exactly where he'd directed his attention to. Slowly, his eyes went back up to hers and she looked at him with a breathless expression, lips slightly parted and chest heaving from laughing so hard before. Like he was being pulled by a rope, he leaned in, putting his hands on her shoulders and pressing his lips against hers. She immediately seemed to melt in his grasp and he told a bold step closer, bringing her warmth flush against his chest. He closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of elation and emotion bursting inside of his chest as his lips glided across her smooth ones.

Given that they were both already breathless before the kiss, they soon parted and Erik looked down at her, unable to keep a smile from creeping on his face. She laughed, her laugh smooth and rich like honey, and so did he. Lunch was forgotten and the two simply held each other like lovesick teenagers as the rain pattered against the sidewalk.

* * *

Erik quietly entered the hotel. It was late - way later than he intended. After getting soaked, he spent the rest of the night with Evanna, going out to dinner and just letting himself be happy. He was sure the others were worried, but he didn't want to be too loud in case they were sleeping and he hoped that they were so he could avoid Charles and his questions. Unfortunately, when he entered the kitchen, his friend sat at the table, looking up as he entered.

"You were gone long," he pointed out, folding his hands on the table.

"I got distracted. I'm fine," Erik said, reaching for a glass so he could fill it with water.

"Where were you?"

He took a sip, turning to lean against the counter. "I was out. Look, I didn't hurt anyone. And I'd like to get some sleep, if that's alright with you, father?"

Charles let out a sigh, rubbing his temples and frowning a bit. "Look, Erik...I know you've been spending time with a woman-"

"-and why am I not surprised that you had someone check on me? Who'd you send? Raven?" He sighed in annoyance, setting the glass down.

"It doesn't matter, Erik. You know we can't interfere more than we need to. We have a mission and you're off romping around. I need you to stay focused and not change something important."

"Have you ever thought that maybe I'm just trying to fix what I lost?" Erik's voice rose. "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you, Charles? Moira is still alive. And she's waiting for you to return. I don't have that!"

"You have _us_, Erik! I care for you as a brother. I want to help you!"

Erik pushed off the counter, trying to push away the irritation grinding his bones. "You can help by not telling me how to live my life."

Without another word, he stormed out of the room, heading to his room and slamming the door shut behind him.

* * *

Erik trudged up the stairs, frowning a bit to himself. A lead on Jakobus a month later led them out of the city and that would mean leaving Evanna behind. He really didn't want to do so, but this was what he came here to do and he had to fix everything. So he had to tell her that he was leaving, but he hoped that he would return. No, he _would_ return.

Knocking on the door, he shoved his hands in his pockets, waiting for her to answer the door. After a few moments, the door opened and she appeared there. A small smile lit up his features, but it was sad. She seemed to notice this and frowned, holding open the door for him to enter.

"Are you alright, Erik?" she asked, closing the door as he went over to the couch.

"I'm leaving," he said, not wanting to delay any longer. "I have to go..."

She drew in a breath, moving to sit down next to him. "Are you going back home...?"

He shook his head, looking down at his hands. "Evanna...there's something I haven't told you about me. I'm...I'm a mutant. I'm trying to help my friends track down someone trying to cause a war...that's why I have to leave."

She didn't say anything for a long while and he was afraid that he'd scared her. Slowly, he turned his head to face her, frowning a little. But instead of looking terrified, she looked intrigued.

"What can you do?" she asked, reaching over to take his hands.

"I can control metal. Bend it to my will," he explained, lacing his fingers with hers.

"Show me."

Taking a deep breath, he pulled his hands away from hers, focusing on the metal of the silverware in the drawers in the kitchen. A spoon, knife, and fork came flying toward him and stopped right in front of the two. He held out his hand, each of them dancing across his palm before he bent the metal to form a rose. It gently floated over to her until it was tucked neatly behind her ear and she smiled a little, reaching up to take it and look at it.

"It's beautiful," she murmured, twirling it in her hands before setting it down on the table. "Will you come back?"

Erik reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yes. I won't forget about you. I will be back before you know it."

"Spend the rest of the night with me? Before you go?"

He nodded in agreement, feeling a huge weight off his chest after telling her who he was. Needless to say, neither of them got any sleep that night.

* * *

It took them a good five months for them to finally find the facility. Every mutant had been brainwashed into submission, each turned into a dangerous weapon of mass destruction. Since then, he hadn't seen Evanna at all, but they talked frequently over the phone and every day he missed her even more. But he kept focused on his work, helping to locate Jakobus and get control over the facility. However, their work wasn't done yet, as they had to find a way to get into the hundreds of mutants minds and bring back their memories. Charles had already started the process, but it was tedious and drained him easily.

For now, he was given a bit of freedom and as soon as he was able to, he headed over to Evanna's once more. The trip was long, but he was excited to see Evanna again and he would be staying for a few days while he wasn't needed.

After a long trip, he had finally arrived at her apartment and he'd created a bouquet of metal flowers before he got to the door. Excitedly, he knocked, though he couldn't contain himself and merely unlocked the door before entering.

"Evanna?" he called out, humming a tune. "It's Erik!"

Something warm jumped at him from behind and he let out a laugh as her arms wrapped around his neck. He spun in her grasp, leaning forward to give her a firm kiss when he realized there was something between them. Looking down, he blinked, unable to speak as he saw her rounded stomach. She took a step back, running her hands along his arms.

"I wanted to tell you but I wanted it to be a surprise...," she murmured. "It's a boy."

Erik was shell-shocked. But it made sense considering the precautions they hadn't taken. It almost felt like a repeat of his previous life and for a moment he was uneasy. Charles told him not to mess up the timeline and he'd screwed up. But the other, stronger part of him didn't care. He was going to be a father again, but this time, there wasn't anything threatening to take his child away. No one recognized him here and everything was safe.

"Have you decided on a name?" he asked, slowly getting down on his knees to come face to face with her rounded abdomen.

"Vincent. I decided on Vincent. It means 'conquering.' Conquering, because he's going to be strong like his father," she whispered.

Tears welled up in his eyes and he brought his hands to her stomach, leaning forward to press a kiss against it. Movement pressed against her skin and his breath hitched. He moved! Vincent moved! A shaky laugh escaped his lips and he jumped up, elated.

"I love you, Evanna," he murmured, pulling her close with a huge grin. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, Erik."

* * *

Erik knew that this day would come. He knew that eventually they would need to return to their time. But he didn't want to. He _couldn't_. Evanna was eight months along, nearly able to give birth to their son. He couldn't just leave. And yet, he hadn't told any of the others. He knew what Charles's reaction would be.

He'd made a happier life here in this time. Maybe he could stay. Maybe it would be alright. However, Charles didn't understand. He didn't understand why his friend was trying so hard to stay in this time. He knew of Evanna, but he did not know of Vincent, and he tried so hard to convince Erik that they needed to go. Everyone else was ready, but the metal-bending mutant.

"Erik, we can't stay here! We've done what we've come to do and Leslie is ready to take us home!" Charles shouted, causing the others in the room to wince.

"You don't understand! I've...I've found a happier life here, Charles! You wanted me to see the good in me, well I've found that! _Here!_ In _this_ time!" Erik shouted back, pacing back and forth.

Charles let out a long, exasperated sigh, wheeling over to Leslie and the others. "Get us home," he murmured, looking up at Erik with sad eyes. "I'm sorry, friend. I can't let you stay here."

Pressing his fingers to his temple, Charles looked at Erik, who had suddenly become slack and unresponsive. He took a few steps forward, joining the group and clutching onto the wheelchair. As Leslie took a hold of each of them, he delved further into his friend's mind, wanting to know why he was so desperate to stay.

Flashes of moments with Evanna filled his vision, but one in particular stood out. Erik was hovering over the woman's stomach, large and housing a tiny human inside. The two of them looked at each other with love and emotion he hadn't seen from his friend in years. He couldn't leave because he was having a son.

"Wait!" Charles shouted, turning to Leslie to get her to stop before they left. He couldn't let his friend leave that behind now that he understood.

But it was too late.

White engulfed them and he clutched his head, letting out a pained yell as everything morphed around them. When he opened his eyes, everything had changed, but it was not familiar.

Erik got off the ground, groaning and using Charles's wheelchair for support. They were in the middle of a park, a few people staring as they passed. One of them seemed to be concerned and moved toward them to ask if they were alright.

"Yes, quite fine," Charles responded. "Do you happen to know what year it is?"

She gave him a weird look, straightening up and saying as she walked away, "2034."

What?!

Erik's eyes widened and he looked at Charles, anger scraping his bones. "What have you done! I have to get back!"

A few of the others began to arise, but his focus was on Leslie - the only one who could get them back to 2016. He turned her over on her back, trying to shake her awake, but nothing seemed to do.

"I can't feel her!" Charles exclaimed in panic.

"What?" Erik bent down to listen to her heart, but there was no beat. "What, no! Leslie!"

He shook her more violently, trying anything he could to get her to awaken, but it was too late. Hot, angry tears pricked his eyes and the same sorrow and sadness from when he'd lost Magda and Nina engulfed him. Keeling down on all fours, he clutched the dirt, choking on his tears. The ground shifted beneath him and he let out a pained scream, unleashing all of his anger on the world as the buildings and cars swirled above him in a violent rage.

Maybe he was never meant to have a happy ending.

* * *

**A/N: Small snippets of how Vincent Lehnsherr came to be made and born. **


	2. Freak

**Chapter 2: Freak**

The day was long. A lot of his school work sat in a pile next to him. Twelve year old Vincent Lehnsherr let out a small sigh as he finished off his math. Being homeschooled, he usually got to get his work done more quickly, but work was still work. He was a year ahead in Math and English because of his particular aptitude for the subjects. It was a lot of work, but he managed to get them done. Besides, he had extra work to finish today given that his birthday was tomorrow and his mother gave him the day to do as he pleased.

He loved his mother, but she could be a bit strange sometimes. She homeschooled him for as long as he could remember. Overall, he liked it, but any time he mentioned public school, she would get tense and deny him - tell him he was being silly. Aside from that, she barely let him out of the house. He would go out for the occasional dentist visit, but he couldn't ever remember going to the doctor's. She wouldn't even let him go to the store with her and at times, this caused a huge fight between the two. Staying cooped up in the house was boring and he didn't have any friends.

Literally, he didn't have any friends.

His mother shied him away from the other kids his age. A few of the neighbor kids he would talk to sometimes, but a lot of them thought he was a freak because he never left the house. It was increasingly frustrating and he only hoped that as he got older, she would learn to trust him more so he could do something besides sit around the house.

Taking his pile of work, he scooted his chair away from the desk and stood, exiting his shabby little bedroom and going to his mother's room to deposit the work on her dresser. It was a routine. He'd do his work for the day, leave it in her room, and then she'd grade it that night.

With a bored sigh, he headed back to his room, closing the door and heading over to the window in the corner of the room. He slid it open, crawling through and taking a seat on the metal fire escape. This was the closest he usually got to the world. Sometimes, he'd sneak out, but that usually ended up in him getting in huge trouble. He swore his mother had eyes in the back of her head.

A few cars cruised by and people scuttled across the sidewalk to get to where they had to go. People-watching had become his most recent hobby. He'd pick a particularly interesting person and try to come up with who they were and what they did.

One man in a dark trench coat caught his attention and he watched as he sauntered off and out of sight. _Bet he's a detective. Or the criminal. Name, Wally Evergreen._ A small smile came to his lips as he imagined a cool scenario with the man at a crime scene figuring out the final piece in the puzzle to figure out the murderer.

By the time it was dark, he'd come up with names and scenarios for at least twenty people. He tried to ignore the families, mainly because it hit a sore spot. He never knew his father - only that his last name was Lehnsherr, like his own, and that he wasn't here. Every time he tried to talk to his mom about it, she would change the subject. It saddened and angered him that he wasn't here. Why did he leave? Did he hate them? Did he hurt his mom?

Vincent was so lost in thought that he hadn't heard his mother calling for him. The door to his room suddenly opened and he jumped, looking through the open window as she moved inside.

"Dinner, Vince. Didn't you hear me calling?" she asked, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"No sorry. Kinda loud out here," he murmured, scooting through the window and shutting it behind him.

"You okay?"

He shrugged. "Just tired. What's for dinner?"

"Grilled cheese and tomato soup. Sure to cheer you up. Come on."

She patted his shoulder and he slid off the bed, following her out of his room and into the kitchen. He pulled up a chair and sat down while she got the food. Now that he was thinking about it, he wasn't very hungry, but he would eat just so he didn't make her worried.

"Are you excited about turning thirteen tomorrow? You're going to be a teenager. I...can't believe it," she hummed, setting a sandwich and bowl of soup in front of him.

"Yeah it'll be...cool," he agreed, picking up his spoon and taking a scoop of the soup.

"I'll make you a cake tomorrow and we can have a nice movie night, how does that sound?" She sat down across from him, looking at him inquisitively.

"Yeah that's fine."

The rest of the meal was eaten with little small talk, his mom being the one to initiate the conversation most of the time. Once he ate enough for her to be satisfied, he excused himself from the table, rinsed out his dishes, and headed back to his room. The rest of the night, he spent tossing and turning on his earlier thoughts. Would he ever know his father?

"Mom...where's dad? Why did he leave?" Vincent sat perched on the armrest of the ratty old scarlet couch in his living room, tilting his head to the side in question. After a long night thinking about how he was going to talk about this, he was finally asking and he wanted an answer. His father could have either done one of two things: left or died. Considering how uncomfortable she got at his questioning, he figured it was the former.

Now that he turned thirteen today, maybe she would finally tell him. Every birthday, he always asked her this question and her reply was always the same: you're too young, maybe when you're older. Now he was older - a teenager. He could handle whatever reason she gave him. He wasn't ignorant. However, he knew that look when she gave it to him. She didn't want to say. Her hands trembled slightly as she scurried about the living room, dusting off the picture frames and end tables and she ignored him for a moment before finally deciding to speak.

"Vincent, h-honey...you know that I d-don't like to speak about him. You're too young. Maybe when you're older," the small, chocolate-haired woman sputtered, dusty eyes wide and concern fixing itself on her features. Again. She said the same thing again. How was he not old enough? He was thirteen! He was officially a teenager! Did she think that he didn't know anything? He wasn't a kid! She must have seen the storm brewing in his gaze because she quickly turned away, heading toward the bright white kitchen in the next room over.

"Mom!" Vincent wasn't going to let her off the hook so easily this time. Years and years of waiting patiently for an answer yielded nothing. He wasn't going to settle for nothing this time. Sliding off the couch, he padded across the smooth wooden floor into the kitchen, his sharp blue eyes followed her frail form as she began to pull things out of the cabinets - ingredients for a birthday cake. His hand clenched around the fabric of his shirt. She was ignoring him. "Mom, why can't I know? I'm old enough! Not a kid anymore..."

It just wasn't fair that he didn't know. To grow up without a father figure in his life was hard and thinking about possibly having a somewhat normal life with a dad who wanted to just play baseball or watch television with him. Even if he couldn't have that now, knowing what happened would at least bring him some peace of mind - give him something to focus on besides the unknown.

He pushed aside the pile of pots and pans that was lingering on the island counter so there wasn't a barrier between them. "I can handle it, I promise." His tender, pleading gaze met her shaky and afraid one, but she quickly shook her head, a sigh escaping her lips as she turned back to her baking.

"Son, I'm s-sorry..."

Vincent's whole world crashed around him as the anger boiled over. She still wasn't going to tell him. After all this time, she still wanted to keep something he deserved to know from him. Hot anger bubbled in his stomach and he frowned, trying to hold back the emotions clogging up his throat.

"Did he hate us? Is that why he left? Or did he just hate me?" he questioned, causing her eyes to widen.

"I'm the reason he left, aren't I? That's why you don't...it's because of me!" He choked on a sob that was bubbling up in his throat and his hands clenched into fists. The light in the room dimmed as his mother moved to shut the curtains. The look on her face when he asked had said it all. He left because he didn't want a son. He left because he didn't want to have to take care of them.

"It's not you, Vince! Please don't ever say that again!" But her words couldn't stop him now. He knew exactly what was going on. It was all beginning to make sense for the first time in his life. How could she do this to him? How could they do this to him? For the first time in his life, he really knew what it was like to feel numb and hollow inside.

"Yes it is! Don't lie to me I can see it in your face!" Hot, angry tears poured down his face, stinging his skin. "You don't want to talk about him because I'm the reason he left! You hate me because he left! You can't...c-cant stand the sight of me! You can't lie! I see the way you look at me! Like there's something wrong me - like I'm something you don't want! You're doing it right now!" His breaths were coming out hot and fast, chest heaving up and down as he glared right into her eyes. Rapid thumps of his heart muffled his hearing so he couldn't make out the rattling of the pots on the counter next to him.

"You never had to tell me why. I think I always knew...I just hoped...," he paused, shoving back another sob, "I just hoped that it wasn't true." Vincent wiped a hand across his face, the wet tears clinging to the palm of his hand. "If you don't want me then fine. I'll get out of your hair." He turned away, ducking his head to his chest for a moment as he drew in a deep breath and then heading out to the front door in the living room. Rushed footsteps echoed behind him and a shaking hand grabbed his arm before he could make it out of the kitchen.

"Vince. Honey, stop! None of what you said it true! I love you so much!" she said in a rush, turning him so that he would look at her.

Vincent shoved her away, shaking his head vigorously, slamming his eyes shut. "LEAVE ME ALONE!" he shouted, leaving his voice raw. His eyes shot open when there was a loud clang to find that pots and shiny metal utensils were swirling around the room and his mother had retreated to the other side of the room, trembling and shaking at the sight of what was happening. What was going on? "M-mom!" He pressed his back to the wall, anxiety pounding him like a big pool of slimy ice water.

Everything was flying across the room - knives, spoons, pots, pans... It swirled like a tornado of metal, clanging against the walls and cabinets, leaving angry marks in its wake. Never before had such terror gripped him, keeping him firmly in its icy hold and threatening to throw him into the chaos. What was happening?

Hastily, he reached out to shield himself from a pot that was too close, but once it got less than an inch away from his hand, it suddenly flew across the room as if he had pushed it. Was he controlling this? _Stop, stop, stop! _

Everything in the room suddenly clattered to the floor and he lifted his hand away from his face. The kitchen was a disaster. Everything that had flown around the room now littered the floor and countertops and large chunks of wall and wooden cabinet resided in the madness.

His eyes immediately darted over to his mother, who was laying on the ground, knocked out cold. A small trickle of blood ran down her forehead and his breath hitched in his throat. He accidentally hurt his mom. Whatever he had done had hurt her and it was all his fault.

Vincent rushed over, kneeling down beside her as a fresh flow of tears escaped his eyes. "Mom! Oh m-mom I'm so s-s-sorry I didn't mean to hurt y-you... I didn't know..." What had he done? His lips twisted into a frown as the tears flew down his face like a waterfall as he sat back against the wall, bringing his knees to his chest. She would never forgive him. If she hadn't hated him before, she would now. Burrowing his face between his chest and his knees, he cried into his clothes.

Sobs shook his entire body. He didn't even know what to do. She was hurt and he caused it. Was he supposed to call the police? But what would they think of what he had done? A painful ache resided in his chest and he peered over his knees to look at his mother on the floor. That was when he realized that he couldn't stay here.

_You're just a painful reminder to her everyday... And you hurt her._

With quick movements, he scrambled to his feet, grabbing an old backpack from his room and dumping clothes and food inside of it. Zipping it up, he slung it over his shoulder, making a beeline for the door and opening it. He glanced back toward the kitchen. _I am a freak. A monster._

And then he ran.


	3. Happy Doesn't Exist

**Chapter 3: Happy Doesn't Exist**

Two weeks had passed since Vincent ran away from home. The first night had been the hardest. He didn't know where to go or what to do and he spent the entire night curled up beneath a big bush in the park trying not to cry and wondering what his mother was doing right now. For the first few days, he didn't need to buy any food because he'd brought along enough, but once that ran out, he had no idea what to do. He had no money and he doubted that anyone in the city would feed him for free. If he went to a homeless shelter, he had a feeling the police would get involved and there was already no doubt a report of him missing filed by his mom.

He got the idea to steal change when he witnessed someone pick pocketing.

No one liked change anyway, and a part of him wanted to see what this new ability was that he obtained. The first few tries had been unsuccessful. He didn't know what to do to activate his ability and he went an entire day without food. But once his body started to become desperate for sustenance, he found it easier to capture the coins out of someone's pocket.

After every time he used his metal manipulation, he found he was able to control it much more easily and soon he began to do simple things on a daily basis to keep his pick pocketing skills up to par. He kept a small nickel on him at all times to practice with, mostly just letting it hover above his palm and weave in between his fingers. Sometimes, he'd test how high he could levitate it before it plummeted back to the earth and even then he'd see how fast he could stop it before it hit the ground.

Today, he needed to go on another pick pocketing escapade because he was running low on money. He only ever stole change because most people didn't like it anyway and he couldn't control paper to slide out of someone's wallet without them noticing. With more practice, he could start to sense and feel more of the metal around him - even objects that weren't coins. Things like cars and buses would jump on his "metal radar" and while it was cool, sometimes it was overwhelming, especially given that they lived in an age of steel.

Vincent tugged his backpack on his back and slipped out of the alleyway he was currently residing in. Padding down the street, he slipped through the crowds easily because of his smaller frame. One of the spots he frequently went to was Time Square where a good chunk of the street vendors resided. No one noticed him, which was something he liked about the city. He could just walk around and no one would care as long as you didn't bump into them.

As he approached the strip of street where the vendors were condensed, he spotted one in particular that looked like it could be loaded. A jeweler.

He approached slowly, browsing some of the other vendors as well just to make it look like he was looking around for nothing in particular. Reaching behind him, he opened up his bag just enough for the coins to be able to go inside when he got them. Lucky for him, the table had metal fold in legs and a plan formed in mind.

Holding his hand open at his side, he concentrated on the metal leg, slowly shoving it in before the entire table fell to the side. A few people observing the jewelry screamed and the vendor cursed violently and began to scurry to pick things up. While he and the shoppers were distracted, Vincent eyed the metal box with the money in it, opened and spilling its contents from the table falling over. He made sure no one was watching before directing the huge lump of change into his backpack through the small opening he'd left. Once the change was safely in his bag, he proceeded to help clean up the mess he made before being on his way.

On the way down the street, he slipped some extra change out of some pockets and once he reached the end of the street, he headed to the nearest alley. Taking cover behind a dumpster, he opened up his backpack all the way and started to sort the change into piles to count. He counted nearly five dollars in change, which was more than enough to get him water and a hot dog from one of the stands.

Swiping the change back into the bag, he got up and made his way to the nearest hot dog stand. A lot of times, people gave him the weirdest looks when he paid for things with change only, but it was still money and they accepted it nonetheless.

It was a little after lunch, so the lines weren't too long. A few people in front of him were talking, but it was relatively quiet. Finally, he got to the front of the line and pulled out stacks of the coins.

"A hot dog and water, please," he murmured, counting out exactly the amount he needed and shoving it forward, putting the rest back in his bag.

"What'd ya do, break ya piggy bank?" the guy snorted, scooping the change and sorting them into the appropriate piles.

Vincent merely shrugged, having gotten used to these sorts of questions by now. He was handed his hot dog and water next and he took them gratefully. "Thank you."

"No problem, kid. Next time, tell ya ma to pay ya in bills." He waved him away with a smirk.

Frowning a little to himself, he headed down the street once more, starting to eat and now stuck with the thoughts of his mother in his head. He still felt betrayed and lied to, but deep down he wanted to go home. But he knew that now he'd been gone for so long, going back wouldn't be an option. Unfortunately, he didn't know the looming darkness to come.

**\- 3 years later -**

It had been three years.

Three years of scrounging for food on the streets. Three years of living in an abandoned crumbling building. Three years without his mom.

_Three years. _

And Vincent Lehnsherr finally wanted to go home.

He didn't know what he was going to do when he saw his mother again. Running away had been such a careless mistake. He was so angry, confused, and upset that he didn't stop to think. Now, it didn't matter. All that mattered was that he wanted to go home. Curling up underneath a moldy blanket lost its appeal. Not that it was appealing in the first place, but it seemed more appealing than going back home at the time. After countless nights lying awake as the freezing breeze blew through the broken window, he realized that what he was doing wasn't worth it. He could face his mother now. He wasn't the young, stupid kid he'd been when he left. He was sixteen now.

Vincent gathered all of the few possessions he owned, stuffing it into the old backpack that was now far too small for him. The dark, dingy building he had called his home for three years was now going to be forgotten. It had been a restaurant of some sort - dusty tables and chairs strewn across the main room, windows shattered, and a deep, musty odor that weighted his lungs down... He was ready to ditch this place. Swinging the backpack onto his shoulders, he stepped over a scurrying rat and headed to the back entrance that he always used to get in and out. The slamming door shut behind him indicated that he was moving forward and he breathed in the fresh, New York air. It took a few breaths to get rid of the mustiness he was so used to, but once it was gone, he felt fresh and ready to get this started.

It wasn't the nicest day; the rain was softly shattering on the pavement and the sky was clouded over with dark gray. It was somber and quieter than usual, but he wasn't going to let that slow him down. His converse slapped against the pavement as he picked up a speedy walk and headed down the sidewalk. It hadn't been easy getting what he needed without any money, but...well he had to resort to theft worse than what he started out with. It wasn't something he was proud of, but he did it because he had to.

He only got what he absolutely needed: mostly food, water, and some clothes and shoes when he grew out of his old ones. Though he had to admit, it was quite amusing going to the counter and paying with change only. It granted him some strange stares that he laughed about later.

Vincent's feet carried him down the path he was so familiar with until he reached the old apartment complex that he used to live in. As soon as he opened the door, his heart rate spiked and his breath hitched in his throat. This was it. He was going to see his mom again. He needed someone in his life to care about him. At the young age of thirteen, he thought that she didn't care, but the more he looked back on it, the more he realized that she had to have cared. Everything she did for him was because she wanted to protect him. Maybe she knew that he was going to grow up and be a...mutant. It made more sense now in his matured brain and he was ready to move on.

Unsure of whether the nerves were from anxiety or excitement, he pushed himself quickly up the flight of stairs until he was on the third floor and stopped in front of the door labelled "eleven."_ You can do this. She'll be relieved. _

He froze.

Laughter...? Who else was in the house? His hand hovered over the door knob as he swallowed the lump stuck in his throat. His skin touched the cool metal of the door, but at the last moment, he pulled away and pounded his fist on the wood instead. The laughter stopped and he waited for a moment as the door swung open.

It wasn't his mom.

A blonde woman stood at the door, her hazel eyes looking him up and down. Her eyebrows knitted in confusion and she glanced over her shoulder, where two men and two other woman stood with equally confused expressions. What...what was going on here? Where was his mom?

"Can I help you, kid?"

Her irritated voice snapped him out of his thoughts and he opened his mouth to speak...but he couldn't get any words out. What was he supposed to even say? The woman rolled her eyes and slowly began to close the door, clearly not interested in waiting around for him.

The click of the lock echoed loudly in the barren hallway and Vincent couldn't breathe. His mind was reeling. Where was his mother? Why were there strangers in _his_ house? His chest tightened and he stumbled back toward the stairwell, his feet quick as he moved downstairs and into the lobby. Shoving the door open, he headed out around back to where the fire escape was and he quickly climbed up it until he found the window to his house. Wiping away some of the streaks of rain, he peered inside, seeing the same people he just saw moments ago. They were having a party, laughing and enjoying themselves...in his house. His hands clenched around the guard rail and he gritted his teeth.

Did his mom move? How was he supposed to find her now? He wanted answers. He _needed_ them.

After several moments of sitting there and watching them laugh and talk in the pouring rain, he decided he was going to ask. No matter what the looks or snotty attitude they gave, he needed to know. So he pushed himself down the fire escape, sliding down the ladder and heading back inside. His feet squeaked along the tile and slowly he made his way back up the stairs to the door of his old house. A lot more boldly, he knocked again, hearing the talking cease and footsteps pound to the door, which opened again a minute later.

"Look, kid go home and leave us alone alright? I don't know what you're trying to pull, but-"

"-Evanna," he interrupted, looking up at the blonde woman, "Evanna Westbrooke. She used to live here. Do you know where she is?"

The woman looked back at her friends with a raised eyebrow. "I don't know who that is. But if you're talking about the woman that used to live here, she died a few months back. Car accident, I dunno, not like I care. Is that all or are you going to interrupt us again?"

Vincent couldn't speak. His mother was dead? Or did she move and some other woman who moved in die before these people? It was only when the door slammed shut again that it finally sunk in. His mom was most likely dead.

His mind raced and he couldn't think straight. Was she really gone? With tears bubbling up in eyes, he raced down the stairs, bursting outside and looking in various directions as he tried to collect his thoughts. _Nearest cemetery, five blocks to the left..._

He ran as fast as his legs would carry him, rain sloshing around him as he splashed through puddles and skidded across crosswalks. The gates to the cemetery came into sight and he ran faster. It wasn't big or small, somewhere in the middle, but without knowing if or where she was buried here, he would have to go to each one and look.

By the time darkness began to descend upon the sky, he was soaked to the bone, feeling the desperation and chill clawing his insides.

But finally, he found it.

The dirt covering the mound was fresher than the rest, with grass just beginning to cover up the patch. The grave itself was small, only her name scrawled across it with no personal message. No flowers. No nothing.

Vincent stood at her grave, his eyes reading over the words slowly again and again. Tears were falling thick and fast. He should have been there! He never got to apologize! Maybe if he was with her, she would have never gotten into a car accident. Maybe if he was with her, he could have stopped the cars from colliding. It was his fault. His fault for not being there.

A searing pain tore through his chest and he fell to his knees, sobs wracking through his body. She was gone and he wasn't there for her. A scream ripped his throat until he couldn't breathe. And then another. And another. Every scream passing his lips was filled with anguish and despair.

He fell to the dirt, pressing his face against the cold, wet ground and he spilled out his tears until there wasn't anymore and he was just shivering on the grave of his mother. This was all his fault.

_ I'm sorry, mommy, I'm sorry. I never should have left you._


	4. One of Them

**Chapter 4: One of Them**

The day turned out to be beautiful. New York City was almost always depressing and off-putting, but today it was actually quite nice. Vincent decided to use the time to take a walk outside in the park and enjoy a bit of fresh air. Luckily for him, it was a Saturday morning and he didn't have to worry about work. Given that he was twenty years old, work was the only thing he even had to worry about at the moment. And friends, but he still seemed to have trouble making those. He usually preferred to hang out on his own anyway.

He passed a small statue in the center of the park where a few kids and their parents were standing and looking at it. Pressing his lips together, he made sure they turned away long enough, and with a flick of his wrist, the hand on the statue morphed into a peace sign. He bit back a smile when a moment later, cries of surprise and excitement burst from the children's lips. The parents would have fun explaining that one to their kids.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he continued on his walk, breathing evenly as the light wind blew on his face and gave him relief from the rather humid weather. It was the end of summer and the hottest time of the year. Not exactly his favorite, but at least it was a break from the cooler winter. Sometimes, he felt he could almost deal with winter much better than the summer.

The sudden feeling of being watched suddenly engulfed him and he slowed to a stop, turning his head slightly to see if he could pinpoint anyone out of the ordinary. He noticed someone not too far away with a hood on looking down at some of the flowers lining the path. Pressing his fingers against his thigh, he kept walking, now suddenly much more aware of what was going on around him. Every few minutes, he would turn slightly to see if the hooded figure was still around. Each time, they were somewhere different until finally when he turned, they were completely gone. His eyes narrowed slightly and he crossed his arms over his chest.

As soon as a hand pressed into his shoulder, he spun around with a speed he didn't know he had in him. The metal necklace around the person's neck tightened and the hood fell back, revealing a dark-skinned woman with...white hair.

Not blonde. Actual white hair. Like...white like a cloud.

"Why are you following me?" he murmured, loosening the necklace around her neck just light enough so that she could speak.

She almost seemed...amused.

"There's plenty of people here who would be wondering why you're choking a woman. I'll explain, but you might want to let me go," she said, gesturing around them.

He took a quick glance, pressing his lips together and then loosening his hold completely on her and taking a step back.

"Thank you. I'm Gale. Gale Munroe."

She held out her hand to shake, but he merely looked at it and raised an eyebrow.

"Right. So I know this might be a bit hard to believe but there are others like you. Me. Mutants. Back where I live, we help find others like us and bring them back. It's...like a safe haven of sorts. I was sent into the city to find others like us. And I can't help but notice your...affinity for metal."

He snorted. "So a girl with white hair and a hood comes up to me at tells me she's a...what did you say...mutant? And she wants me to go with her to a psycho house? Tell me exactly how that's believable."

"Woman. And I'll give you that. But you know exactly what I'm talking about. And if not..."

Her eyes suddenly started to glow - like actually glow - a bright white. He took a step back, raising his arms as a sudden clap of thunder and flash of lightning split the sky. Just as soon as it was there, it was also gone and her eyes went back from milky white to their normal blue hue. So she could control the weather? He had always known that there were others out there like him, but he never tried to find them. In fact, he always tried to avoid it. He'd have fun with his abilities once in a while but he never really wanted them to be a part of his life.

"Look miss..."

"Munroe."

"Yeah...well if you expect me to just drop everything and come with you to your...well you're mistaken. I have a life here. A job, an apartment... I don't know you and I don't need to. I'm perfectly fine on my own."

She let out a small sigh and folded her arms over her chest. "Alright. But at least let me walk you home."

"Shouldn't I be the one doing that?" he asked with a snort, a smirk spreading across his lips.

She merely smiled an raised an eyebrow in question, clearly unsatisfied with his response.

"Fine. As if my day couldn't get any weirder..."

He gestured for her to follow and she gladly did, tucking a strand of pale hair behind her ear as they headed toward the exit of the park. People were still laughing and taking pictures of the altered metal statue he messed with earlier and he let out a quiet chuckle.

"You know, you might want to be a bit more careful when you do stuff like that. Not all of us are like me," Gale murmured.

"Like you...?" he queried.

"Like me in the fact that I'm not going to try and kill you."

"Wow. That makes me feel so much better about this situation." He laughed a bit, weaving in and out of the crowd down the path to his place.

"Yeah sorry... I've just...seen some things."

The mood got a bit quiet and somber after that and neither of them tried to talk much. As they neared his apartment complex, he slowed, not really wanting her to come in and know exactly which room he lived in.

"Is...this the place?" she asked, looking up at the small little building on the corner of the street.

"Uh...yeah why?" He stopped, raising an eyebrow.

"Well...this is the place that I was sent to live temporarily."

What? That was...well a bit creepy, wasn't it?

"Are you...the one who moved in across from me...? Room 5A?" he questioned, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Um...yeah that's it, actually..."

"Oh... Well that's not creepy at all..."

He laughed awkwardly, staring up at the building and pressing his lips together. Gale was muttering something under her breath, but he didn't tune in to try and listen.

"I'm...sorry if that's weird. I didn't know. Guess it explains why James was rushing me out. Wanted me to get the place before it was taken by someone else."

James? Must be the guy in charge back at her place. It was a bit creepy he was having a bunch of people come and basically stalk mutants to try and recruit them or whatever. Not sure he wanted to meet the guy...ever.

"Well...I guess let's just...go inside?" he suggested, shrugging slightly. No point in trying to hide where he lived anymore.

"Yeah, yeah," she agreed, giving him a small smile and starting toward the door.

Vincent quickly moved ahead of her, opening the door for her and letting her go in first. She thanked him and then he followed suit, heading toward the stairs. It was only two flights up and they were standing awkwardly in the hallway, not sure whether to say goodbye or just walk into their apartments and leave it at that. She was the first to speak and he turned slightly, raising an eyebrow.

"So uh... Well even if you don't decide to come... It was really nice meeting you, mister...?"

"Oh! Vincent. Vincent Lehnsherr." He held out his hand toward her, but something in her face had changed. As soon as he said his name, her eyes got slightly wider and she got really quiet.

"Did I...say something...?" he asked, holding in a breath as he studied her face.

"No, no, I just...thought of something. But yeah it was nice to meet you mister...Lehnsherr." She gave him a nod before turning around and unlocking the door to her apartment, not even bothering to shake his hand.

There wasn't even anything he had done wrong. Or was there? Before he even went inside his apartment, he noticed a small slip of paper on the floor at his feet. Pressing his lips together, he bent down and picked it up, turning it over to read the words on the back.

_ 'Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, 1407 Graymalkin Lane, Salem Center. Westchester County, New York.' _

**A/N: Sorry for such a short chapter! But the next one is gonna be long and filled with some really good stuff. Hope you enjoyed! Gale belongs to a friend, Clover (me and my friends made roleplays based on next gen characters so a lot of the characters are not mine and will be credited as such).  
**


	5. Claws

**Chapter 5: Claws**

Vincent woke with a start as a loud crack of thunder split the sky. Groggily, he blinked a few times to gain his vision before turning over to look at the time. Just a little bit after three in the morning. Stupid thunderstorm...

His eyes jumped to the window and he watched for a minute as the rain pelleted his window harshly. It really was raining hard. Curious, he stood, stretching lightly and exiting his bedroom to look through the bigger window in the living area. But as he did so, he noticed that his front door was wide open. He froze, listening carefully for any signs of someone having broken in, but he only heard the harsh wind. Actually, now that he thought about it, it seemed like the wind was coming from the hall.

Opening his palm, a knife flew out of the kitchen drawer and he wrapped his fingers around the handle, slowly making his way to the front door. As he got there, an overwhelming gust of wind blew in his face and he lifted a hand to cover his eyes. Through his fingers, he could see the door across the hall open. The door to the apartment of that woman he met yesterday. Was...she causing this?

With a little less caution and more curiosity, he headed across the hall, stopping in the doorway. What was her name again? Uh...Gale! That was it.

"Gale?" he called out, noticing all the windows were open and things had fallen off tables because of the strong wind.

He pushed against the wind and headed to where he thought her bedroom would be, which wasn't too hard to find because the door was open just like all the others.

In the bed was the girl, tossing and turning violently as she muttered things under her breath, clearly in distress from a nightmare. She didn't know what she was doing.

"Hey, Gale!" he said a little louder, slowly approaching her bedside.

When she didn't respond to his verbal cues, he reached out and touched a hand to her shoulder to shake her. A flash of lightning illuminated the room and she sat upright, eyes wide as she instinctively moved to attack him. He grabbed onto her other shoulder to hold her back before she could go too far.

"Hey. Hey it's me. Vincent, your neighbor," he explained quickly, loosening his hold. "You were causing a scene. Wind throwing everything around. I think you were having a nightmare."

She drew in a deep breath, staring at him for a minute before her muscles relaxed slightly. "Sorry I...did I wake anyone else up?"

"I don't know. Here, I'll make you tea, that always helps me to relax."

"No, really it's-"

"I insist. I'm already here anyway. Come on."

He gestured for her to get out of bed. She hesitated for a moment but gave in and the two of them headed to the living area. Slipping into the kitchen, he took a peek at her as she bent down to pick some stuff up. Given he didn't know where anything was, it took him a few minutes to find everything he needed. She didn't have a kettle like he did, so he just heated up the water in the microwave and plopped in a bag of chamomile.

With the tea in hand, he joined her on her couch and handed her the mug. She gave him the smallest of smiles and took a sip.

"You uh...seem pretty powerful. That was some storm," he commented, folding his hands in his lap.

She drew in a breath. "Ah yeah... Not my worst but...are you...you know, that powerful too?"

"I dunno." He shrugged. "Haven't really done much besides bend a few things here and there."

"Can I...see?"

The question wasn't that weird given that both of them had special abilities, but he hadn't really ever shown anyone much of what he could do.

"I..." He bit his lip and then looked to the kitchen. "Do you care about your silverware?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Not particularly. You can..."

Vincent nodded once and then outstretched his hand. A couple of butter knives came from the drawer and into his palm. Around his house with his mom, she had some metal flowers that he now knew were products of his father. He never particularly wanted to know much about him after he lost his mom, but he did recreate metal bouquets when he was missing her.

The knives rose up and slowly began to twist and morph in his hand until it was a single metal rose. Gingerly, he gave it to her and shrugged.

"Haven't really tried much more than that," he murmured, resting his hands on his knees.

She looked over it before gently placing it on the table. "It's pretty. And you...seem like a decent person."

The surprise in his voice made him confused and he looked at her quizzically. "Did you think I wasn't?"

"I've just...met a lot of mutants in my day and not all of them are great," she explained.

"I've only met a few...I always knew there were more out there but I never really thought there was...a community."

"Offer's still open."

He looked down at his lap, pressing his lips together. "I'll think about it, at least. I just have a lot going on over here. Finally just got a stable job and everything, you know?"

"Well that's a lot better of an answer than choking me with my own necklace." A short laugh escaped her lips.

"Yeah about that? I'm sorry. Growing up in the city makes you cautious."

"Hey as long as you don't do it again."

"I won't," he chuckled, taking a glance around before slowly standing. "I should probably go."

"Actually uh..."

He looked over at her, noticing she seemed a little nervous and uncertain. "Yeah?"

"Do you mind staying...? Just for a little while longer? You can use my Netflix if you're bored."

At first, he was going to decline, but something about those electric blue eyes of hers drew him in.

"Alright. I'm taking you up on that Netflix offer," he agreed, the corner of his lips drawing up.

"Sure, here." She bent over and retrieved a remote. "Thank you, Vincent."

"Just call me Vince. And it's no problem." He took the remote from her, returning to his spot and turning on the television.

Her Netflix popped up and he noticed a good handful of her "recently watched" were chickflicks. A small smirk threatened to jump to his lips but he pushed it down and scrolled down. The Walking Dead caught his eye and he clicked on it, noting she was halfway through season 4.

"Favorite character?" he asked, clicking the play button and letting the episode continue, where it was just a little bit after the Governor destroyed the prison.

"Hmm...I think either Maggie or Michonne. You?" she answered, pulling her legs to her chest.

"Funnily enough, Rick or Glenn. Daryl's cool of course, too."

That opened up a bit more conversation for the two of them and they continued to watch together as the night evolved. Neither of them really noticed how sleepy they were getting and it wasn't long after five in the morning that they both fell asleep with the television illuminating the room.

Vincent was awoken yet again to a bang. It took him a minute to realize where he was and that someone was banging hard on the front door. Gale stirred beside him and he blinked, taking in the appearance of her apartment and the television still running with season five of the Walking Dead now playing. Something didn't feel right and he shook Gale awake.

She sat up quickly and blinked, looking toward the door as it rattled before the hinge finally gave way. The only thing holding the door shut now was the chain, but it only took a split second for the metal to snap and the door to come flying open.

"Shit!" she swore, getting to her feet and moving to stand in front of him.

"Whoa wait what the hell?" he questioned, blinking at the short-haired man who'd just entered.

He was tall with broad shoulders and obvious muscle build. The only thing very different about him was the long, sharp fingernails at his sides and shining amber eyes. Was he like them? She did mention something about other mutants not being so pleasant... Was she talking about a guy like him?

"Got yourself a body guard, sweetheart?" the man purred, taking quick strides closer.

"Don't come any closer, Creed!" she shouted, her small body doing what it could to shield him from this man.

Vincent could feel the danger and tension in the air and he quickly grabbed onto Gale's wrist, pulling her back and taking her place. He'd had his fair share of street tumbles, but he had never confronted another of his kind before.

"I don't know who you are, but you better back off," he growled, ignoring Gale's squirming protests as he held her in place behind him.

"Oh a fighter, huh? I'm going to enjoy slicing you up like a carcass," he laughed darkly, eyes narrowing before he lunged.

Vincent raised his arms to use as a barrier, but he wasn't expecting to get clawed. This guy sliced his claws right through his forearm and he gasped, falling backwards as his heavy weight pinned him to the ground. He could feel the warm blood oozing from the wound.

"_Weak._ You're weak, child," Creed snarled.

He didn't get a chance to say more, though, because launched herself at him and freed him from the weight. The wind in the room picked up and he groaned, sitting up quickly and cradling his arm to his chest. Gale and the man were locked in a fight and his mind raced. The drawers began to rattle and the knives flew from one of them, slicing through the air at an impossible speed.

"Gale, duck!" he shouted.

She did just that, ducking just in time as the knives flew right at Creed, embedding themselves in his chest and neck. Taking a few steps back, she scurried over to him, eyes wide as she took his arm to quickly look over it.

"Are you okay?" she breathed, glancing over her shoulder.

"Yeah I just got my arm sliced open by a guy who doesn't cut his nails. Totally fine," he chuckled and then coughed, wincing slightly.

His eyes jumped up as Creed slowly started to peel the knives out of his flesh and the skin where they'd been embedded cleared up within seconds. What the hell?

"You know, you remind me of someone, kid. I didn't think any other metal-benders existed," he hissed.

Dammit. This guy could heal himself? He quickly pushed himself to his feet to dodge an attack just in time and Gale leaped onto his back. If he could heal, would attacking him even be worth it? Maybe they should book it and try and outrun him until they could find a place to hunker down.

He took a quick moment to lunge toward the door, thrusting his hands toward it and ripping the door right off its hinges. Harder said than done since the rest of the door was made out of solid wood.

"Gale!" he shouted, turning and land eyes on the two still struggling with each other.

Her eyes snapped over to him and she seemed to catch on, slipping of Creed's back and darting toward the door. Just before she could make it, Creed leaped right over their heads and landed between them and the door. This guy was like a damn animal. What kind of animal could leap right over their heads?

"Ah ah, not so fast," he chuckled darkly, towering over the two of them.

He felt Gale grab onto his wrist and pull him backwards. He stumbled slightly before following right on her heels, snapping up the broken door by its hinges to use as a shield. Just in time too as claws sliced right through the middle of the door. That could have been his throat.

Gale scrambled to get the window open and with all haste, she climbed out onto the fire escape. He let the door drop and followed after her, but before he could climb through, claws dug into his shoulders.

A cry of pain escaped his lips and he crumbled to the floor, writhing in agony as Creed dug his nails in deep, slicing through the flesh down his back. He heard Gale screaming and dark laughter in his ears but everything around him was a blur. He didn't even realize when the weight on his back was lifted because of how much shooting pain was paralyzing him. But he could feel the pelting rain now and a wind picking up and he knew she was doing something.

Vincent laid still for a moment, trying to recover his senses. Someone picked him up - or tried to - and he blinked, seeing the blurry figure of his neighbor towering over him and trying to drag him across the floor. Half of his body was shoved against the window before there was a pause and he gasped for air, chest heaving as he desperately tried to awaken his senses. He was just starting to gain his vision back when the petite girl lifted up his lower half and shoved him rather ungracefully out the window.

He winced, landing on his stomach on the metal grate of the fire escape.

"Vince! Get as far away as you can, I'll hold him off!"

He could hear the panic in her voice and he blinked up at her head poking out of the window before retreating. Was she just about to get herself killed? He couldn't let that happen.

"Wait, Gale," he groaned, trying desperately to sit up.

His hand swooped down to the wrong step and he went tumbling down the metal stairs, each time he hit the next step more air rocketed out of his lungs until he hit the bottom and literally couldn't breathe. Slowly, he started to crawl across the pavement, leaving blood smears in his wake. The corners of his vision were black and he could feel himself start to fade, but he couldn't let himself do that while Gale was still up there fighting.

With a blurry gaze, he looked up at the fire escape when a loud_ bang_ echoed above. Both Gale and Creed were locked in a struggle on the teetering metal surface which was most likely bending due to Creed's weight and strength. He coughed feebly, lifting a shaky hand just as the metal gave way.

It hovered in place, sweat dripping down the side of his face as blood pooled all around him and his body trembled with pain and exhaustion. There was no way he was going to be able to hold that for much longer. He was in too much pain and his body was too exhausted to hold his abilities steady.

"I...can't hold it!" he coughed, his body tense and rigid from exertion.

"Hold on!" she shouted back, her voice strained like she was in pain.

Lightning crackled from her fingertips and she plunged the current right onto the metal. She remained untouched but Creed...the current traveled through his body, singing flesh and hair until she released. The man fell, toppling over the side of the railing onto the pavement. His singed skin started to knit itself back together but he remained unconscious and unmoving.

Unable to hold the strain any longer, his hold on the platform released. His head snapped back to the pavement and he heaved in sharp breaths.

"Vince...are you okay? I need to get you to a hospital," Gale breathed, kneeling beside him. "Can you stand?"

"Dunno," he murmured, grinding his teeth together.

"I'm going to help you up. It's gonna hurt."

Letting out a shaky breath, he braced himself and she took his hand in hers, letting him rest for only a second before she hauled him up. Every single inch of his body was on fire and a pained groan crawled out of his throat. He didn't have the energy to even stand, but Gale propped him up as best as she could.

She slowly helped him down the street, but every step was exhausting and painful. He began to slouch and his body began to shut down until he collapsed on the ground. Gale's frantic voice reached his ears but all noise slowly faded out until he was in nothingness. He was barely hanging on by a thread, the only thing in the darkness surrounding him was the sliver of will to live and a voice he hadn't heard before cracking through.

_'Hang in there, my friend. Hold on just a little bit longer.'_

* * *

**A/N: A bit on the shorter side but there's a TON of stuff coming up so I didn't want to drag this on for too long. I have a lot of new characters coming in the next chapter (which aren't mine. Gale belongs to Clover and the other characters will be given credit when they're introduced). Since Vince was created based on a roleplay me and my friends have together, there are going to be a lot of characters that also belong to them. I hope I do them justice! Anyway, hope that this was enjoyable!**


	6. Welcome

**Chapter 6: Welcome**

Consciousness came to Vincent with a start. Everything around him rushed in quickly and he jolted upwards, a sheen of sweat coating his skin. What happened? Where was he? Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the darkened room and he was able to make out some things that weren't familiar to him. He was on a bed that wasn't his with pristine white sheets and a carved wooden headboard. Beside the bed rested a dark nightstand with a lamp. Moonlight seeped through the partially closed cream curtains and on the other side of the room was a closet and door that must've led to the bathroom.

A few pictures were hung on the walls, mostly scenes of nature or flowers. This couldn't be a hospital, could it? It was far too nice for one and he wasn't hooked up to anything. The memories from earlier flashed in his mind and he realized that Gale wasn't anywhere to be seen. Anxiety spiked in his chest and he threw the covers off his legs, stepping onto the cold wood floor. These clothes weren't his either. And his back was sore and painful.

As he hurried toward the door, he reached behind himself underneath the maroon t-shirt to feel bandages covering up his back. Right where he had been attacked by the claw guy. Someone patched him up.

Swallowing thickly, he wrenched the door open and came to stand in a long hallway. Doors occupied most of the wall with some dimmed lights in between each door. It felt eerie and only caused his stomach to twist uncomfortably inside of him. Where was Gale?

Before he could even start looking through the doors to try and find her, footsteps behind him made him spin on the spot.

"Hey! Where are you going?"

A brunette girl came moving swiftly toward him, muscles tense and taut. He only flashed a glimpse of different color eyes, green and blue, before he felt the overwhelming presence of metal on her person that distracted him enough to act out of instinct. Raising a hand, he forced her to a stop and she froze on the spot. It was almost as if her skeleton was made of metal itself.

"The hell? Let me go!" she growled in quite a ferocious voice.

"Where am I? Who are you? And where is Gale?" he demanded, only daring to take a single step closer to her.

Her different colored eyes flashed and she seemed to be trying to struggle against his hold on her.

"You better watch it, I helped save your life!"

This didn't satisfy him. He didn't know who she was and all he cared about was making sure Gale was okay. He didn't care if she had helped him at all.

"Where is she!?"

"Whoa, whoa, calm down there, my friend!" another voice chimed in.

His gaze shifted to over the girl's shoulder to spot that someone else was coming toward them, male with shoulder length brunette hair. His accent was distinctly British, which only threw him more on edge. Had he been taken out of the country?

_'Please, let her go. She is of no harm to you.'_

As if something was controlling his mind, his hold on this girl dissipated and she was able to move again. His eyes widened and he looked straight at the new man. Had he spoken into his mind? Controlled him?

"Who are you? And where is Gale?" he demanded once more, chest rising and falling with each heavy breath he drew in. "Tell me!"

"Relax, friend. Please, allow me to explain," the man said, voice calm and steady.

Vincent took a hesitant step back and looked between the two, not sure what to even do. They weren't telling him where Gale was, but if this man was going to explain...

"My name is James Xavier and this is Leah Howlett. We are friends of Gale. People like you. Gale called us after you both were attacked. You fell unconscious and she soon did as well. The both of you were in critical condition and we brought you back here to heal. This is where Gale stays when she is not helping recruit," James explained.

"Recruit? This is the gifted youngsters place?" he questioned, eyebrows furrowing together.

"Yes. The very same. People like you and me and Gale all stay here. I'm assuming you know of Gale's gifts?"

"Yeah...yeah I do. What're you some sort of mind reader or something?" He took in a few quick breaths, trying to calm his body down, though he was still on edge.

"Of sorts," James chuckled. "Before I can take you to see Gale, I do need to know your name and gift, if you wouldn't mind?"

"I..." He bit his lip, glancing between the two once more and trying to figure out if this was all real or just a dream. It felt pretty real. "I'm Vincent. Vincent Lehnsherr. And I can...manipulate metal."

The atmosphere completely changed in the blink of an eye. James grew quite quiet and looked over at Leah almost in panic. The girl had also grown silent, but he could feel rage radiating off her in waves. Why rage?

"Lehnsherr?" she growled.

"Leah, please," James tried, resting a hand on her shoulder that she shrugged off.

Her feet started moving and he took a few hasty steps backwards. And suddenly, shining silver claws were protruding from her knuckles. The danger switch in his brain suddenly flipped on and just as she lunged toward him, he deflected her, tossing her easily against the wall by grabbing hold of the metal in her skeleton. She landed hard on her side and he looked down at her in bewilderment.

"What he hell was that for?" he breathed, clenching his fists at his side as she got up, her teeth bared at him almost like a wolf.

"Do you have any idea what your family has done to mine?" she snarled, lunging toward him again and barely giving him a moment to think.

This time, she tackled him before he could hold her back, all while James was shouting to stop and trying to pull her off.

"No! Get off me or I'll make you!" Vincent snapped, putting his hands on her arms and tightening his hold on her until the blood was likely not flowing through her arms.

"Leah, he doesn't know!" James shouted suddenly, his hands on her shoulders. "He doesn't know. He's never met his father and his mother kept everything from him and she died... Please, Leah, stop."

What? His father? What about his father?

Leah glared down at him for a single second longer before peeling herself off him and standing. He sat up quickly, eyes not able to rest on one of them for too long.

"What about my father?" he asked lowly, pushing himself to a stand. "What do you know about him?"

Both of them went quiet. Leah seemed to glare down at the floor and she clenched her knuckles so hard he was sure she would bleed. James looked away pensively and brought a hand to his chin. Why were they being quiet? What had his father done?!

"I know nothing about him. My mom would never say a word. I think I deserve to know who he was so if I don't hear a damn answer within the next second-"

"Alright," James interrupted, putting his hand up in a calming manner. "Vincent I...I don't know if you'll like what you hear."

"Say it. I want to know."

For his entire life, he had never known a thing. His mother kept him in the dark. And every time he tried to find something, it always seemed to be covered up or hidden from the world. Like someone was trying to erase him completely. What had he done that was so horrible?

"Your father he... He was not a good man," James began, "Erik Lehnsherr. Best friends with my father for a time. But many things happened in his life that turned him into..."

"A monster," Leah growled.

James let out a gentle sigh but nodded. "He...killed thousands. Tried to slaughter all those who were not gifted like us. And he killed Leah's adoptive parents..."

Sore subject for Leah, because she got visibly tenser and more full of rage if it was even possible.

"No one has seen him for some time. I'm...I'm sorry that you didn't know. Though I assume from your limited knowledge of him that you are nothing like him."

Vincent stared blankly at the floor. Murderer? Killed thousands? He had assumed that his father wasn't necessarily a good man, but this? This wasn't what he expected at all. His head bowed and he held in a breath, processing everything. For his whole life, he wanted to know. Now, he wished he could forget. That was why his mother had been so afraid of talking about him. That was why she looked at him like he was a monster.

"Vincent...? Your wounds...they've opened," James said softly, waking him from his thoughts.

Sure enough, taking a look back he could see that the shirt he was wearing was soaked with blood, some even dripping onto the floor.

"Leah, I know that you...you...could you please stitch him up? So we can bring him to Gale?"

Leah's chest expanded and she locked eyes with him for a split second before nodding. "Get the supplies."

He wasn't exactly sure if he wanted her to touch him, but this newfound knowledge was buzzing in his brain and he was too distracted to do anything but cooperate. So he followed her into the room he had just come out of, taking a careful seat on the bed and looking down at his hands in his lap.

"Take off your shirt," she grunted, moving around to the other side of him.

Carefully, he peeled off the article, tossing it to the side and resting his hands on his knees. For several moments, they didn't say a word - both of them too enraptured in their own thoughts to do so. James returned soon after with the supplies and took a seat on the chair in the corner of the room, probably to make sure Leah didn't murder him with the needle.

How could his dad have done this?

"Leah... I'm... I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what he did. And I'm...not like him," he mumbled, tensing up as the alcohol was applied to his cuts.

She took another several moments before she spoke. "It's not your fault."

Her voice was taut and rough. Maybe she was just always like that. One look at her and she seemed to be the rough around the edges type. Her voice probably didn't get any higher than low and gruff.

The needle plunged into his skin and he tensed up more, grinding his teeth together to try and block out the pain somehow.

"He just...came into my house. Killed them. Set the house on fire...," she sighed, pressing a hand to his back to adjust his position.

"I'm sorry..."

Neither of them spoke after that again. She finished stitching him up, which was actually rather painful, and then gave him a fresh shirt for to wear. As soon as she was finished, she left the two of them alone. James tried to give him a friendly smile, but it was obvious it was strained.

"Gale is sleeping at the moment but I can allow you to visit for a couple of minutes. She's actually doing rather well and should recover fully within a few weeks," he said, gesturing for him to follow.

Slowly, he followed the man, keeping a steady pace behind him as they went down the hall to the very end. The last door. He could have guessed it if he wanted or tried to.

"Here. I'll give you a few minutes and then I will have to ask you to go back to sleep. In the morning, I can show you around a bit more and introduce you to some of the others," James explained, stepping aside.

"Thanks," Vincent murmured, reaching out to take the knob.

"Of course, friend."

Again, Vincent woke with a start. Though this time, he recognized where he was. The Gifted Youngsters place. Everything from last night was fresh in his mind and his back was more sore now than ever.

With a wince, he slowly sat up, mulling over the images of a sleeping Gale from last night. Like James said, she was alright and recovering. Still, he had to see her to make sure. And seeing her sleeping peacefully despite her injuries was nice. He barely knew her, but he felt almost protective over her. She seemed so innocent compared to many of the other people he knew, but with all she knew, it couldn't be that simple.

James said that he would meet him in the kitchen when he woke, so now he just had to figure out where that even was. This place seemed huge and if this was almost like a school, he was sure he would run into other people. He wasn't very comfortable with that thought, but without knowing exactly where he was, he had to just go along with it.

Carefully, he got out of bed, finding his sneakers underneath the bed and slipping them on. Before he went anywhere, he checked his bandages to see that they were relatively clean. That was good. Hopefully they wouldn't have to be changed for a while longer.

He neared the door and could already hear voices beyond the door. Were there kids here too? Biting on his lip, he hesitated for a few moments before he sucked it up and decided to go through. As soon as he did, he regretted it.

Someone bolting toward him, nearly running right into him if it hadn't been for a shining pink portal that appeared right before where he was. The girl with pink streaked hair disappeared through it in a blur and then reappeared a few feet away, pausing to look at him curiously. Another girl with dark brunette hair had also come running around the corner, but stopped dead in her tracks.

"Whoa, you new? Haven't seen you around here before. Pretty sure I'd recognize a face as hot as yours," she breathed, the words tumbling from her lips like an auctioneer. He noticed she had light pink eyes.

"Pft, quit it, Ellie. Doubt he wants you flirting with him the first second you meet him," the other girl quipped.

"Oh shut it, Jas! And hey, you still have my good eyeliner, give it back!" Ellie moved past him to grab it.

"You still gotta catch me!" Jas snickered before disappearing in another pink portal.

"You're gonna get it!"

And then the Ellie girl had sprinted down to the end of the hall with swirls of luminescent pink and purple trailing behind her.

"Wait!" he called after them, realizing they probably knew where the kitchen was. "Hey, wait!"

But before he could get their attention, they were gone and he was left in the hallway alone. A small sigh escaped his lips. Okay...so these people were like him, right? That's what James said... They definitely happened to be..._interesting_ to say the least.

Slowly, he began to make his way down the hall, looking intently through any open doors to see if he could find the kitchen. He passed one room in particular that made him almost screech to a stop because of an older blue skinned boy braiding the hair of a much younger purple skinned girl. But he forced himself to keep moving and tried to keep his mouth shut as he passed several other odd sights, including a silver blur dashing around outside that turned out to be a silver-haired girl after she came to a stop and sat down in the grass. What was this place?

Finally, after what seemed like forever, he found a large kitchen area where several teens were making breakfast in. He stood up a little straighter and gave a wary glance around him to see if he could spot James.

"Ah, Vincent! There you are."

The British voice behind him gave him some sense of relaxation and he turned to face James, who was smiling at him.

"It's a bit busy here, let me bring you to my office. Follow me." He gestured in front of him and Vincent didn't hesitate to follow. There was way too much going on here for him to be comfortable.

After a few more winding hallways, they finally arrived at a much more quiet spot where a large study and office sat waiting for them. Books lined the shelves neatly like perfectly aligned teeth and other trinkets like a telescope and revolving globe rested neatly in corners or by windows. In the center was a large desk covered with papers.

"Go ahead and sit. I just want to give you an idea of what it will be like here and what I've done," James said, pointing to one of the comfy-looking armchairs.

He sat down, careful not to lean back because of his wounds, and folded his hands on his lap. James moved across the room and went to sit down at the desk.

"So I know you must have a lot of questions, and I'll be happy to answer, but I just want to make it clear from the beginning. I know that you know not much of your father, but I tell this to everyone before they stay here. If you attempt to harm any of my students, I will not hesitate to turn you into the authorities," he started, his tone warning.

"Uh..yeah I mean, I just want to go home...can I do that now?" he asked, hands moving to grip the edges of the chair.

"For now, I'd request that you stay here until you are well. After which you can return to the city if you'd like. I've already contacted your boss with the news of your injury so he will be alright with your absence for the time being. I've already introduced you to Leah and you know of Gale, but later on I can introduce you to a few others that are helps around here, including Gale's brother Jayce and Juliette Summers."

He drew in a deep breath. This was a lot to remember and take in. Staying here for a little while? Not really what he planned or wanted...

"A-alright. When can I leave?" he asked. "And how much should I rest?"

"I'd say about three weeks? Minimal movement is fine, nothing too major. You can walk around and shower as long as you don't get your stitches wet. I will have someone fetch some clothes that will fit you. Are there any other questions you have?" James raised an eyebrow.

He definitely did but so many swirled in his brain that he could only say, "no."

James gave him a knowing look, though it shouldn't have surprised him if he was a mind reader.

"Welcome to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters."

* * *

**A/N: James belongs to a friend, Win, and Leah belongs to my friend Clover.**


End file.
